Hungry
by bgn
Summary: Walking Dead in The Hunger Games universe. District 11 used to be the Deep South. This is a WD story but HG characters are mentioned and there are spoilers for events in the HG book trilogy.
1. Setting the Stage

A/N: I took liberties with what we know about District 11. Seeder and Chaff are not victors and Merle replaces Chaff as Haymitch's drinking buddy without a hand.

**Setting the Stage**

Glenn

District 11 has one victor: Daryl Dixon won the 52nd annual Hunger Games at the age of 12. Only one other 12 year old has ever won – a Career boy from District 2 took the crown in the 29th Games. But he was almost 13 at the time, well-nourished and big for his age, whereas Daryl was undersized and had turned 12 a month before entering the arena. No one knows exactly how he won. Well, they watched of course but they don't know the story behind it.

Districts with no previous winners can select someone to accompany their tributes, or the Capitol will provide a mentor. Before Daryl became mentor, 11 always sent someone. The children were going to all but certain slaughter but at least they wouldn't spend their final week with a stranger from the hated Capitol.

When Daryl was reaped his brother Merle tried to volunteer but at 19 was ineligible. So Merle went with Daryl and the official escort. The brothers returned together, Merle minus his right hand, and they've never spoken of it since, not even Merle when he's drunk. It's still a mystery why a small, simplified crossbow was parachuted to Daryl. It wasn't much better than a slingshot but Daryl made good use of it.

I was two when it happened. I watched the recording when I was 12, just before my first reaping. I've watched it three times since then, seeing and feeling different things with each viewing. A girl with a blood disease volunteered as the female tribute that year. Her name was Gwen and her interview with Caesar Flickerman was heartbreaking as she admitted that she volunteered because she was dying anyway.

That minute after launch when the tributes can't leave their platforms yet, you can see Daryl's eyes darting around, taking everything in. He jumps off his platform, snags the closest bag and heads for Gwen who is already making for the woods. She doesn't look well but adrenaline is probably helping her move fairly fast for the moment.

Daryl didn't score much in the bag, as expected so far from the cornucopia. There's a fish hook, three matches and a protein bar. Hours later they find a stream, strip a vine as a fishing line and dig worms for bait. It's early enough that a fire won't be seen so they choose wood that won't make much smoke and cook the fish. They move camp before settling in for the night.

They're attacked early the next morning but there are only two and they take them out. Daryl bashes in the head of a 15 year old boy with a rock from the stream. Gwen beats a girl with a tree branch but she's already weak and knows she used the last of her strength. She looks at Daryl and says, "Next time" and shakes her head. Berries and cold fish for breakfast and they're on the move again, looking for a place to hide.

The third day they come across a girl by herself. She says they should stay together for awhile and Daryl and Gwen agree. Awhile turns out to be the middle of the night when the girl makes the mistake of killing Gwen first with a knife she had kept hidden. Daryl gets the knife away and kills her with it and then he's on his own. Until the parachute arrives and evens the odds. Daryl goes hunting, or it might more properly be said that he goes on a rampage. Watching him, you think he would have been able to kill them all without a weapon, that the little crossbow just gave him the confidence to get started.

The Dixon boys moved into the Victors' Village which had stood empty for more than five decades. The houses have always been kept up by the Capitol, not because it was expected that they would be used but as a taunt to the entire district. Daryl became mentor to the tributes who followed him. He and the escort travel to the Capitol with them and each year Daryl returns grim-faced and alone. Merle stays in District 11, having been permanently banned from the Capitol. He has a drinking buddy in neighboring District 12, the victor of the second quarter quell, who Merle met in the Capitol. Travel between districts is forbidden for most citizens but victors have privileges so two or three times a year Haymitch Abernathy arrives by train to get drunk with Merle.

Daryl

Daryl always joined his brother and Haymitch for a drink but the two older men tended to gravitate to the subject of sex and their discussion of potential partners was always about females. Daryl wasn't interested so he left them to it.

Not that Daryl was uninterested in sex. He wasn't a virgin but he was 28 now and far from experienced. Just enough to know he preferred men to women. It wasn't easy to have a relationship, especially when you were SSO – same sex oriented. His income kept him and Merle comfortable but his status set him apart. People weren't unfriendly but there was a distance between the Victors' Village and the rest of the town that was greater than the mile that separated them.

Besides his brother, Daryl's closest companions were the mayor, Rick Grimes, and the local baker, Dale Horvath. The poorer outlying districts were very similar except for their contribution to Panem. Areas not needed for that contribution were fenced off to control the population. There was a town with a locally elected mayor and a few basic businesses like a pub and a bakery. There might be a doctor, or the closest thing to a doctor that the district could claim. Often this was just someone more skilled than average with first aid, minor illnesses and setting bones. District 11 was lucky to have a trained veterinarian, Hershel Greene, who cared for animal and human patients alike.

A few months earlier a bobcat had attacked Dale before being put down. Hershel fixed Dale's slashed abdomen but he needed help for awhile so a young Asian man named Glenn was assigned. Daryl had seen the kid occasionally over the years. He remembered when the boy's parents died of a virulent influenza a decade earlier. Dozens of people had died because the Capitol delayed medicine. It turned Hershel's hair white before his time to lose so many good people for no good reason.

Two months after Dale's attack he was healed but by then he depended on Glenn and wanted him to stay on. Every able-bodied adult and child had a job in the fields, orchards or gardens. Only the elderly and infirm were excused and they had duties in the town instead. You worked until you died. That was the deal. But Dale was old enough that it was time to train someone to take over. Normally this would be someone who was getting too old for field work but Dale made his case for Glenn and, surprisingly, his request was granted by the Peacekeepers.

The Peacekeepers weren't known for congeniality but they were posted in a district far from the luxuries of the Capitol. They got better food than the locals and a few choice goods from the Capitol but it was a monthly supply train and in between, a good bakery and a decent pub were the most they could hope for. If Glenn had been a strapping man perfect for field work, they would have refused but he wasn't very big or strong and no one else was enfeebled at the moment so they made an exception. Glenn was 17 and had been working the gardens since he was a child. He would continue to help at peak harvest times and everyone liked Glenn anyway so there was minimal resentment of his good fortune.

Truthfully, the boy might be a born baker. He had unearthed an ancient book of recipes, Down Home Cooking – Favorites with a Southern Flair, and had been trying them out with great success. Dale's bread was the result of years of practice, not a natural gift that Glenn seemed to possess. Glenn had added soft rolls and pastry to the menu as well as a round flat crust spread with tomato paste, sprinkled with chopped vegetables and topped with cheese. He called it pizza. Everybody else called it good enough to forget there was no meat included. Although occasionally there was meat, thanks to Daryl who poached regularly and never got caught. Being a victor wouldn't save him if the Peacekeepers apprehended him in the act. They'd come across him with birds and squirrels and rabbits but always within the fence line.

Most trees were part of the orchards but there were some small wooded areas where the ground wasn't suitable for planting. Daryl claimed that was where the birds and squirrels came from, and the rabbits from the gardens. The Peacekeepers didn't believe him. They thought he must be getting out but they didn't know where or how. The fence was electrified and in good repair. Inspectors from the Capitol checked it annually and the Peacekeepers themselves did so after weather that might have caused damage. Branches overhanging the fence had been cut off or the trees themselves cut down. It aggravated the Peacekeepers that Daryl eluded them but on the other hand, he always came back and he shared his haul with the town which meant the Peacekeepers benefited as well. They weren't about to alert the Capitol and be punished for their failure to resolve the problem.

Daryl helped at peak harvest, too, even though as a victor he was exempt. He didn't want special favors. Merle was limited by his missing hand so Daryl pitched in for him as well.

Daryl worked in the fields and Glenn in the gardens so the two hadn't met until one day at the bakery. Glenn had grown into a handsome young man with dark eyes and hair that flopped over his forehead. He was friendly, not reserved as most people were with Daryl. Daryl wasn't much of a talker and was surprised thinking back after each visit how much he had contributed to the conversation. It was two months before he admitted to himself that he was going not for fresh bread but to see Glenn. He was so unnerved by his interest in the younger man that he made Merle do the shopping from then on.

A few weeks later Merle arrived home and tossed a bakery bag on the table. "That kid turned 18. He's legal. Get your own damn bread from now on."

Daryl met Merle's eyes. "You knew?"

"Only from the first time I set eyes on him. I know your tastes. And you wanna taste Glenn."

"He's too young for me."

"He don't think so. Always asks after you."

Daryl looked down to hide the hope and satisfaction he was sure would show. "What does he say?"

"Lemme see, what'd he say first time I went in? Course he knew who I was. Called me Mr. Dixon. When I was leaving he says 'I hope Daryl is well. I mean Mr. Dixon. I mean your brother, the other Mr. Dixon.' And then he turned red as a beet."

Daryl flushed. Merle laughed. "You got somethin' in common, you're both blushers."

There was a knock at the door. They didn't get many visitors. The mayor dropped in occasionally but Rick usually saw one of them in town and mentioned he would be stopping by.

"You expecting somebody?" Daryl asked.

"That'll be Glenn," Merle said casually.

"What! You invited him here?"

"We gotta eat so I ordered a pizza. Glenn said he'd deliver it so I wouldn't have to wait. Get the door. And pay him."

Daryl was nervous as he went to the door.


	2. The Main Characters

**The Main Characters**

Glenn

I'm nervous. I wonder if Daryl or Merle will answer the door. I haven't seen Daryl for a month since he stopped coming to the bakery. I think he figured out I have a crush on him and decided if he wasn't around I'd get over it. It didn't work. Hasn't he heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder?

The door opens and Daryl is there. His hair is darker than usual because we're coming out of winter and the sun isn't strong enough to lighten it a couple of shades as it does in high summer. See? This crush didn't start a few months ago in the bakery. I've been watching him for years – and jerking off thinking of him – but I doubt if he ever noticed me.

"This might need to be warmed up," I say to fill the silence although it's true because it's a mile walk and spring nights are still cool.

"Come on back to the kitchen." Daryl turns and I follow.

I've never been in a victor's house before. It's big and well-built, the Capitol does good work. Nice furnishings, at least what I see from the hall into two rooms we pass.

In the kitchen Merle takes the box and opens it. "That's a lotta food. Plenty for three," he says slyly.

Is it possible that Daryl's brother is playing matchmaker? Daryl takes the hint.

"Stay and eat," Daryl says. "If you're hungry and have time."

"Thank you." I'm always a little hungry and my time is my own until the bakery opens in the morning. And I'm not too proud to accept the invitation even if it was Merle's idea.

Merle fills a plate and goes to the study muttering something about writing a letter. Maybe it's an excuse to leave us alone. Although he might be writing to Haymitch Abernathy. On the other hand, or rather the one hand, Merle can't eat and write at the same time so for some reason Daryl's brother is throwing us together.

Conversation is a little stilted at first but soon smoothes out. We discuss spring planting and Daryl asks after Dale. We don't bring up anything personal but it feels like we're sharing our day with each other. Or maybe I'm pathetically reading more into this than exists.

But maybe not because when we finish and I put on my cap and jacket Daryl says, "I'll walk you back. Make sure the PKs don't hassle you."

"It's an hour until curfew. I'll be home before then." Why did I say that? It sounds like I don't want him.

"I can use the air. A walk before bed."

"I'd like the company," I say and then I shut up because Daryl said 'bed' and that turned my imagination loose.

We walk without speaking but the silence is comfortable. By unspoken agreement we stop at the edge of town. It's definitely chillier now that we're not moving and I can't help shivering.

"That jacket's not heavy enough," Daryl says. His own coat is thick and well-made.

"I'm fine. It's not usually this cold so close to spring." I don't mention that this is the only coat I own and in fact I do get pretty cold in winter.

Daryl unbuttons his coat and I'm afraid he's going to take it off and give it to me which I do not want but he does something better instead. He holds it open and stands there and it feels like he's opening up more than his coat to me. I step forward and he closes the coat around me. I slide my arms around his middle until they meet at the back.

"So you didn't stop coming to the bakery because you don't like me?" It's easier to ask this in the dark with my face against his chest.

"I liked you too much," Daryl admits.

"So, what's next?"

"We could get to know each other, like we started to at the bakery."

"Are you going to do your own shopping again or shall we pass notes to Merle?"

"You gonna give me a hard time about that? I was trying to protect you."

"I thought you were avoiding me because I embarrassed you."

I figured you were being friendly like you are to everybody and I was making it into more."

"I wasn't being friendly, I was flirting. When you stopped coming I was afraid I overstepped. You're the victor. Everyone is respectful."

Daryl sighs. "I hate that. You're the only one who treats me like a regular person."

"You don't mind if I'm forward?"

"I'm kinda flattered."

I tilt my head back and reach up and our mouths meet. Our lips are chilled and chapped but they warm up quickly and our tongues smooth the slight roughness. I've been kissed before but not like this. We're hungry for each other and I don't just mean sex although pressed together in Daryl's coat it's obvious that we're both getting hard. But it's too late and cold to do anything about it so we break apart.

"I'll watch until you're inside," he says.

I nod and trot across the square to the bakery. When I turn, Daryl lifts a hand. I wave back and close the door.

I'm in love.

Daryl

Daryl knows how life can turn on a dime. His own took a turn for the worse when he became tribute, improved when he won and got bad again when he became mentor. Things started looking up when he met Glenn then down when he thought he should stay away from him. And now tonight was the best night of his life and there seems to be more in store.

He was hungry for food the first 12 years. Since winning the Games he's been well-fed but the last few years he's been hungry for something else. He's pretty sure Glenn can satisfy his appetite. Not just for sex although that's surely part of it.

Daryl has to make the first move with town people, be the first to speak, and when somebody replies he wonders if they're just being polite. Most of the time he doesn't believe that because he knows the district is proud to have a victor. If there were a few more the awe would be spread out instead of concentrated on Daryl.

There are a few who are at ease with him. Merle, of course. Rick the mayor and Dale the baker. And the baker's assistant. Thinking of the kiss they shared makes his body stir again.

He's walking along the tree-lined avenue between town and village. It's more of a lane than an avenue but it's the only pavement in the district. It opens onto a large common area ringed with houses and enough trees circling it to give the illusion of woods. It's quiet and pretty and Daryl likes living there but it also isolates him and Merle. He supposes that's the point. Victors are alive but that doesn't mean they're happy.

Although he's pretty happy right now. So happy that walking is awkward. Daryl planned to go home, think about Glenn and let nature take its course. But a wave of lust surprises him so he steps off the pavement behind a tree. He breathes deep, trying to regain control. He cups his crotch and squeezes but that has the opposite effect. He can't wait. He strips off his gloves and opens his pants. The air is cool, his hand is warm, his cock is hot. He puts one arm against the tree to support suddenly shaky legs and strokes purposefully. He's standing close enough that the head of his cock rubs the bark. This close to coming the rough pressure feels good and he finishes fast.

Without all that blood his dick is freezing. He tucks it away and heads for home again, satisfied and a little sleepy. He wonders if Glenn is in bed asleep already or maybe he's doing the same thing Daryl did.

Minus the tree.


	3. Courtship

**Courtship**

Glenn

Daryl stops by the bakery every day and the Dixons have a standing order for pizza delivery each week so Daryl and I see each other often. When he started stretching out his visits at the bakery months ago I didn't expect anything to come of it but now I'm a little worried that he could get tired of my nattering so, as usual, I just come right out with it:

"You probably noticed that I talk a lot."

He allows that I'm good with conversation which sounds like a compliment instead of an annoyance. I might think he's being tactful but Daryl is a straightforward person and tact isn't his style. I could even say he's blunt but I'm too tactful.

"I should be more quiet like you are," I offer up.

"Sometimes I wish I could talk to anybody about anything like you do."

"Well, if you want some peace, just tell me to shut up. I won't be offended."

Daryl looks at me for a moment then puts a hand around my head and pulls me to him. It's a great kiss, one of my top three, all delivered by Daryl.

When we separate I say, "That will work, too."

Daryl nods. "But don't think every time I kiss you it means you're talking too much. I like to hear you."

I revisit the age thing, too:

"Did our age difference really bother you?"

"You're 10 years younger. That's a lot at 18."

"So what? Should we each have found someone closer to our ages? How about Milton Mamet? He's between us."

Daryl snorts. "Most of the district is convinced he's a mole for the Capitol."

"Well, he's SSO and there aren't very many of us. Maybe he's just a loner."

"Or maybe he's plain weird."

"I'm glad you aren't making me wait. I'll get older with or without you but I'd rather it was with you."

"I guess it was mostly that I remember you as a little boy and now you aren't."

I can't help smiling. "You noticed me?"

"You kind of stand out."

District 11 is mostly dark-skinned people but with a decent percentage of white. Very few Asians.

Daryl goes on: "I felt bad when your folks died."

"Me, too. But I'm not the only one that happened to. Your parents died young."

"I don't remember Mama much, she passed when I was five. Daddy died when I was nine. But I had Merle. You lost all your family."

"The district takes care of orphans. I know you help."

Daryl shrugs. "It's a fund. Least I can do."

There are restrictions on how much victors can help their districts. Daryl doesn't make a big deal of it but I bet he gives the max. That seems like something the Capitol shouldn't control but one victor in a large district couldn't help everyone anyway.

This has turned into the best spring ever and it's not all due to Daryl. I didn't mind working in the gardens but I love the bakery. It's fulfilling in a way I never expected to feel about work. And I'm not in the bakery all day. Most people come to the shop but I deliver to a few places like Peacekeeper headquarters, the mayor and the veterinarian. One day I even helped Hershel deliver a foal when a mare was having trouble.

Daryl and I haven't told anyone we're seeing each other. We're not hiding it but it's not something you announce to the district. They'll figure it out soon enough. I'm sure Dale suspects and he must approve because when Daryl comes to the bakery, they visit for a few minutes then Dale makes an excuse to leave us alone together. Merle knows, of course. He seems to be encouraging the relationship and I don't know why. I'm glad, but I didn't think he'd be in favor. Actually, I didn't expect him to care one way or the other.

Daryl and I talk and fool around a little but we're taking it slow. I wouldn't mind speeding things up but even though Daryl said he likes me being forward, it's best to go at his pace when it comes to being intimate. I'm not sure why he seems reluctant because I know he responds to being near me. Maybe he's shy about his body although he looks so good fully dressed I can't imagine he's not even better without clothes. And what I've felt through those clothes is what makes me not want to wait. His arms and shoulders, butt and belly, his legs and what's between them. Yeah, it feels like Daryl is well-hung.

When it happens it will be at his house. I live with Dale above the bakery and even if my room was bigger and had thicker walls it wouldn't be appropriate. As it is, my room is so small that the bed takes most of the space but I don't mind because it's the first room I've ever had to myself. When I was little I lived with my parents in a tiny house. There are rows of them, shacks really, at the edge of town. I slept on a pallet on the floor. After they died I went to the orphan dormitory where we slept on cots in a big room. When I was 14 I moved to the men's barracks where the arrangements were the same but the beds were bigger. So my own room is a luxury. Dale and I get along really well – he's like a grandfather – and he's been so good to me I wouldn't want to take advantage. Plus when Daryl and I finally get together, we're going to want privacy.

Daryl

Daryl had been scrawny until he won the Games. Better nutrition and a couple of growth spurts made him taller and broad in the shoulders but he was surprised when his dick kept growing. He was a little worried about the first time they would get naked. It was coming as surely as he did every morning and night lately. He was looking forward to seeing all of Glenn and hoped Glenn would be pleased to see all of him. He had more than average and was kind of proud of his size but his limited experience had taught him that while a big cock was admired in theory, it could be a problem in practice.

But this kid had got under his skin and into his heart faster than he thought possible. He wanted to show what Glenn meant to him.

Glenn

Tonight Merle is buying drinks at the pub. He does that occasionally. Most of the district can't afford to eat and drink so it's a way to help them disguised as a party instead of charity. They're poor but proud. Daryl pays of course but he prefers that Merle host these events. Merle looks like he'd be a mean drunk but he's actually a happy drunk.

Daryl and I have a drink then he whispers, "Let's go home" and I know this is the night.

Six weeks ago we walked from the village together. We're walking to it tonight. It's full spring and warm and we know each other much better. It's time.

We help each other undress until we're down to my briefs and his boxers. Daryl stands back and motions me to go first.

He looks me over and says seriously, "You're perfect."

I believe him. I just hope I'm perfect for him.

Daryl hooks his thumbs in his boxers and pulls them down his thighs. I realize with one glance that he was holding back because of his size. I'd like to tell him he's beautiful but I think joking might be better. He's used to that from me.

"Wow," I tell him. "There's plenty of perfect to go around. And you got more than your share." I lick my lips. "Is that why you always wear loose pants?"

"They're comfortable to work in!" Daryl says defensively.

"And non-binding."

"Am I too big?" Daryl asked hesitantly.

"Of course not. You're just … mmm."

"I mean, there's only so much room in an ass or a mouth."

"I'm looking forward to both but if I'm too tight for you there are other things we can do."

"Not me, I meant it might not be so good for you." Daryl's voice trails off. "You're really something. You knew I was worried so you turned it around."

"I really don't think we have anything to worry about. You're not abnormal, you know. You're just … mmm."

"You keep saying that."

"I run out of words when I look at you."

"Well, there's a first. So all I have to do to shut you up is kiss you or strip?"

"I'm honestly not sure which I prefer."

That first night was ... astounding? ... astonishing? I've run out of words again. We do things that are so much more together than they were with the few partners we've each had. Our bodies fit just right front to front. We haven't topped each other yet but we will eventually. For now, face to face frot is nice if you like to kiss and blowjobs just never get old.

We've been so happy that we almost forgot what happens every summer.


	4. The Reaping

**The Reaping**

Daryl

Daryl doesn't forget the reaping. It's always in the back of his mind even when it's a long way off, even when he's enjoying life like he never has before. Most everybody in the district is the same. The reaping and the games consume them for a month and then they put it away, unless they lost someone close in which case it will probably haunt them forever. Then suddenly it's summer again. And this time Daryl has someone close to lose. It's unlikely, though. Glenn's name is in only 14 times, seven as tribute and seven for tesserae for himself. As an orphan he has no one else to support. This is Glenn's last year. He'll be safe. Daryl will take two tributes to the Capitol and watch them die and return to District 11. But this time Glenn will be waiting for him.

Glenn

Everyone is especially nervous when they're 18 because they only have to beat the odds one more time. And the odds are ever in your favor at the reaping. If your name is called, that's when the odds plummet. So if you make it through the last reaping, you're safe. Instead of dying in the arena, you're safe to starve if it's a bad year for crops, or get hurt or sick and die without proper medical care.

The escort is the usual overdressed, twee woman who might be pretty if a few layers of unnecessary makeup were scraped off. Her name is Venetia Faire but she's called Vanity behind her back.

Amy Norris' name is called for the girl tribute. She's a year younger than me and I know her slightly. Her sister Andrea is quite a bit older and is the mediator. The Capitol likes to give towns the illusion of working out their own problems so Andrea mediates disputes. You can bet the Peacekeepers would step in if they thought it was necessary but Andrea is fair and good at compromise and there's not much dissension in the district anyway. This will be a terrible blow to her. She's too old to volunteer and only one tribute has ever returned outside a coffin.

Vanity twirls her hand in the huge glass ball of boy names and pulls out a slip of paper. "Carl Grimes!" she shouts as if the kid won the lottery. This is worse than usual because I know the mayor's son. Carl is Rick's and Lori's only child. He's 12 like Daryl was but he's not a scrapper like Daryl was at that age. He stumbles forward and someone calls out, "I volunteer as tribute."

Daryl is on his feet staring at me. He whispers, "No" under his breath but he's on the dais and can't make a scene. And I realize that I spoke the words out loud, not in my head. Too late. I can't unsay it and now that I think about it, I don't want to. I'm an orphan. Sure, people like me, but no one will miss me for long except Daryl. We're the only two I'm hurting by my action. It seems inevitable anyway. I've been happier the past few months than the rest of my life put together so why shouldn't death be the only possible outcome?

The Grimes' gratitude is overwhelming when they come into the little room to say goodbye. Lori hugs me, saying "Thank you" over and over. Rick shakes my hand. "There's no way to repay …" He chokes and turns away.

Carl is defiant. "I was picked. I should go."

"You'll have six more chances," I tell him, and he looks fearful again.

Dale cries and says he'll see me in a month but I can tell from his eyes that he thinks this is farewell forever. Merle is the only other person they let in.

"Use that innocent 'Who, me?' thing you got going," he says gruffly. "That can work for you. And get your ass back here to take Daryl off my hands. He's a load I been carrying too long."

Then Vanity is there and she takes Amy and me to the train where Daryl joins us. He looks pale and his blue eyes are dull. He asks to speak to me alone.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" he demands.

"It popped out and I couldn't take it back. I didn't want to anyway. I couldn't stand there at 18 and let a little kid go. Male tributes have always been my age or older. And I know the Grimes. So do you. Rick is your friend."

"But you … you're everything to me."

"I love you, Daryl. I didn't plan to do this. I even regret it but that doesn't mean it's the wrong thing to do. I have a better chance than Carl."

"Chance don't mean much in the arena. And I can't help you. They don't let victors use their income to send parachutes. We're a poor district. All we can afford is a little food. And Capitol folks might bet on a long shot privately but publicly they sponsor tributes who are rated high."

Daryl repeats that a little later with Amy present so she'll understand how it works. She's a sweet girl but until now she's had her sister looking out for her and she's scared. It's the kind of fear that makes you weak instead of strong. But she does ask the question I've never brought myself to ask Daryl:

"How did you win?"

And Daryl tells us.

_Merle made a deal with the devil. Madame Diabla was notorious in the Capitol – even that center of excess – for her appetite for sex and blood. She might start with one but it didn't matter which as each led inevitably to the other. Merle approached her with the promise of witnessing something special in the Games if she would sponsor a small weapon sent to a 12 year old boy. Diabla was rich beyond imagination but the cost of parachuting even a rudimentary crossbow was too great to be satisfied with the possibility of unusual carnage in the arena. There would be carnage with or without the weapon and no doubt the carnage would be greater to a 12 year old if he had no weapon. She needed more. Merle had thought this bitch might want to fuck him and he was just fine with the notion. He had heard the rumors; that was why he picked her. She was willing to cross lines that other wealthy sponsors would not._

_But she wanted blood instead of sex. "Do you love your brother more than your right hand?" she asked._

_Merle's heart sank but he nodded, understanding that she intended to have her pound of flesh literally. He wondered if he could get the hand reattached after they cut it off. This was the Capitol and their medical technology was legendary._

_But that was not to be. Merle would not be anesthetized so that his hand could be quickly and cleanly removed by a surgeon. Instead he was given a hacksaw. He had the presence of mind to insist on watching the parachute be prepared. Diabla said it would be sent as soon as his hand was off. Merle believed her – she had her own sort of honor – but he was determined to remain conscious to be sure. This was too important to allow himself to pass out._

_Merle used his belt as a tourniquet. It was long enough to bite down on the end of the strap. He placed his arm on a table and methodically sawed through his wrist as fast as he could, swallowing the agony. When his hand lay there an inch from the rest of his arm, he looked at Diabla through eyes clouded with pain. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth open. She looked like she just came and she probably had. But she gave the word and the parachute was released._

_The hand might have been reattached even after such a brutal amputation but it wasn't Merle's hand anymore. It was Diabla's trophy. A doctor cauterized the stump and gave him morphling. And then Merle watched his little brother kill seven kids. And felt nothing but satisfaction because they were all bigger and older than Daryl and would have done the same to him. 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' The old phrase his grandmamma used to say came to Merle out of the past but it took on a whole new meaning in the arena._

_There were repercussions of course. Weapons had not been banned as gifts because the cost was so exorbitant that few could or would pay. Most sponsors would consider it an unfair advantage anyway. They liked seeing the smaller, weaker tributes taken out in the bloodbath at the beginning but after that they settled in hoping for some real competition between the survivors._

_Rules were revised. Weapons were forbidden. Basic items such as water, food, matches and medicine were allowed. Anything else must be approved before being sent._

_President Snow and his council called Merle and Daryl before them. Snow was furious with himself for not plugging the hole in the parachute rules before someone could take advantage of it. He wasn't as experienced yet as he would become in later years. He attempted to shame Merle but Daryl was alive and Merle had no regrets._

_"You have debased the Games. Your brother won by dupery."_

_"I think he won by killin' a bunch of Career kids from your favorite districts," Merle replied._

_"You have no honor." Snow's contempt was palpable._

_"I traded it for my brother's life. But honor's not worth much so I threw in my right hand."_

_"Ah, yes. A prosthetic from the Capitol will never be available to you. No doubt there is a rusty hook in your dismal district that you can make use of."_

_"That'll suit me," Merle replied with bravado. "What's the matter, Snow White? You and your dwarves don't like to see the tables turned by District 11?"_

_Snow's eyes sparked. He was unaccustomed to having his will thwarted, especially by an ignorant hick. He was further enraged that this hick might not be so ignorant, having taken in the number of council members and used it with his own name to mock him._

_"You will not set foot in the Capitol again."_

_"Wasn't expecting to be rewarded like that."_

_"It is a punishment not a reward."_

_"You want to punish me, you should have made me live here. Daryl and me will be on the first train out."_

_Later in his administration Snow became increasingly cruel in his punishments but at that point he was still cautious enough to let the incident go. The less said the better. Besides, the people of the Capitol were fickle. They might not want a victory like this in every Game but the unusual was a novelty and the Dixon brothers had their attention for the moment._

As Daryl finishes I realize that Amy and I aren't the only ones who have heard it. We're just the only ones alive. I'm sure all the tributes ask what happened. And even though the story can't help them, Daryl tells it. It's a kind of consolation prize – to hear the truth that the rest of the district will never know. Because the tributes have taken it to their graves for 16 years.


	5. Games People Play

**Games People Play**

Glenn

The stylists are doing all they can to help us. They're going for the ethereal look with Amy and they don't have to do much because she's already blond and pretty with a faraway look in her eyes. It should play well in her interview. There are few Asians in the Games so they were excited to work on me but I'm a disappointment. They wanted me to be a badass ninja or some sort of martial arts expert and I can't carry it off. Daryl says it's because I look too nice, that in fact I am too nice. He means it as a compliment but there's despair in his voice. Daryl loves me but he doesn't believe in me. I don't blame him. He's watched 30 tributes die and many of them had advantages I don't have. But I'm stronger than I look. I didn't die with my parents from influenza. I didn't even get sick. I hope that counts for something.

Vanity has taken charge of Amy. She's good with her and Amy clings to her. Daryl told me the escort often tends to the girl and he takes the boy. He instructs us together on everything he knows about the games and the arena. But that's not as helpful as you might think because the arena is a biosphere and it changes each year. Weather and terrain can be manipulated so you never know what to expect. After this long, they're running out of ideas so they do recycle from previous games. We watch the recordings and Daryl points out mistakes tributes make and the stuff they do right.

Daryl and I haven't slept together since District 11. He doesn't want anyone in the Capitol to know about us; it could only hurt me. The mentor and the escort aren't allowed to see the tributes the morning the games begin. Amy and I won't even see each other until we're in the arena. The stylists will dress us in whatever the Gamemakers have approved and Peacekeepers will accompany us to the launch area.

On the last night after our week of training and interviews, Daryl and Vanity go to Amy's room to wish her luck and then come to mine. They leave together but Daryl's eyes tell me he'll be back later. He arrives at midnight and I'm not asleep yet. I don't expect to sleep even though I should. I won't get much rest after tonight.

I ask Daryl if we can top each other and he agrees. On what is possibly our last night together we find that we fit in all ways physically just as we've known for awhile that we're a match mentally and emotionally. Afterwards he gives me a pill that will let me sleep for a few hours and holds me until I drop off. He's gone when the stylist wakes me.

Daryl

Glenn came across in his Flickerman interview as the nicest guy in the world but without survival skills. He made a dish for the Gamemakers using only a few odd ingredients. They pronounced it delicious but gave him a rating of four. Amy got a three. The other tributes took note.

Daryl did the best he could for both of them and felt guilty for not caring more about Amy's fate. He wondered if his punishment would be that by some stroke of luck she would survive instead of Glenn. But Daryl didn't believe in miracles. He resigned himself to taking the train home alone again.

In that minute after launch when tributes can't leave their platforms, the bright peaceful meadow was flooded with fog. In the days that followed the ever present mist grew more menacing and something had been done to the acoustics in the arena. Sounds echoed ominously and you couldn't tell what direction they came from.

Amy was quickly killed at the cornucopia. She had meant to make for the woods but the fog was confusing and she was one of the first victims. Glenn was on his own for awhile. He found water and managed to avoid the other tributes but he couldn't really fend for himself. Rick Grimes personally paid for a parachute with bread for him the first day. Rick and his family never went hungry but he was far from wealthy. It took donations from the whole district to pay for a bread parachute for each tribute. Glenn's was sent the second day and Amy's unneeded one the third day. The fourth day the Careers found him and took him in. He would be easy to do away with when the time came but meanwhile they could keep him close at hand and make use of him.

When they found water, Glenn carried it to their camp. When they thought it was safe to have a fire, Glenn fetched the wood. He made more of their scraps of food than they thought possible. When he turned his ankle they even made a crutch from a branch but they were wary of him having any weapon so someone always watched him and they took it away from him at night. He was with them for two weeks as they roamed the arena killing other tributes. But they were all dead now and Daryl knew Glenn would be next.

Someone had snared a rabbit and that night Glenn made stew. The others saw it as a pitiful attempt to curry favor. It wouldn't work but they were glad to have a last decent meal before disposing of Glenn and turning on each other. It was time to end this.

Daryl watched Glenn hunched over on a tree stump, eyes hopeful, hands twisting, expression pleading, and he felt like crying because soon he would watch the man he loved die.

The leader, Dave, feeling a last moment of benevolence toward the soon-to-be deceased, tilted his head toward the stew where Tony was already scooping seconds and said, "Go ahead, have some."

Glenn shook his head. "Oh, no, I'm fine. You all help yourself."

Dave frowned and his eyes narrowed. "Stop!" he ordered the others. "There's something wrong …" His speech slurred but he stepped toward Glenn with fury in his eyes. Glenn stood and reached for his crutch but Dave swayed and dropped to his knees then fell to one side. All around him the others slumped into unconsciousness, shocked and disbelieving.

Glenn was a ghost figure in the fog, kneeling beside each tribute, pinching their noses shut and covering their mouths until the cannon sounded, announcing that the tracking device had confirmed death then moving on to the next.

Daryl watched in wonder the most bloodless victory he'd ever witnessed. Not only was his Glenn a born baker but the kid should be on stage because he had an act going on and Daryl had been as taken in as everyone else. Actually, Glenn had been on stage for weeks and he'd never once broken character. Never shown the smart mouth and spirit that Daryl knew. Daryl was afraid that part wasn't an act, that the arena had taken something essential from Glenn.

Hovercrafts were in the arena now, one for the bodies and a medical unit for Glenn who suddenly seemed boneless. Daryl ran for the door the instant he collapsed.

* * *

Daryl had been sitting by Glenn's bed close enough to hold his hand for 14 hours. He was thin and dehydrated coming out of the arena but not in bad shape physically. The doctors were more worried about his mental and emotional well-being. So was Daryl. When they suggested the shot to let him sleep, Daryl agreed. It was often given to victors although Daryl had refused his.

Glenn was receiving hydration and nutrition by IV and was catheterized. They had cleaned him up while he slept. His skin was clear and his hair was shiny. The hollow cheeks and sunken eyes were already filling out. You bounce back fast at that age. Daryl knew he would be okay but he couldn't completely believe it until Glenn said so. He leaned his forearms on his thighs and dropped his head. He had to be here when the kid woke up but the emotions that had kept him going were draining him now that the crisis was over.

"Daryl?" Glenn's voice was soft.

Daryl's head jerked up and there were Glenn's bright eyes looking at him and his lips curving in a smile. The smile disappeared and Glenn asked, "What's wrong?" with a note of panic in his voice.

Daryl thought Glenn looked great but he sounded like he was in pain. Was there some internal injury? "What do you mean? Do you hurt?"

"Not me, you. You look terrible, Daryl."

Daryl took stock. All through the games he hadn't slept, barely ate, washed up and changed clothes in a hurry every few days. He'd been glued to the screen. His skin was pasty from never seeing the light of day, hair lank, eyes bloodshot, and he was none too clean.

"Guess I'm worse off than you right now."

"You look like you should be in this bed instead of me. In fact, that's a good idea. Lay down with me." Glenn started to scoot over. "Ow! It feels like there's a needle in my cock."

"A tube."

"Take it out."

"I'll call somebody."

"You do it."

"I'm not trained."

"Who has more experience with that piece of me than you?"

Daryl grinned. His kid was back. He pulled the sheet down, held Glenn's penis and gently removed the catheter. Then he got on the bed and put his arms around Glenn. "Don't suppose I smell so good."

Glenn inhaled. "You smell like concentrated Daryl. You smell like home."

They lay together quietly for a few moments.

"How long have I been out?" Glenn asked.

"Fourteen hours."

"It's really over?"

"Yep. You're the victor of the 68th Annual Hunger Games. They thought at first it was poison. But blood work showed a tranquilizer powerful enough to knock out a horse."

"Not surprising since I stole it from Hershel when I helped him with that foaling mare a couple of months ago."

"But where was it?" Daryl demanded. "They check tributes' clothes and empty their pockets before they get on the train."

"I suppose from now on they'll do body cavity searches," Glenn said.

"And the scan before entering the arena?"

"An ampoule wrapped in oilskin must look like poop. And you can bet most tributes feel like shitting at that point."

"Is that why you wanted me to top you the last night? To make sure you'd be able to stick something else up there?"

Glenn laughed. "Well, if your cock fit, there wouldn't be any problem with some horse tranq. But remember, it had already been in there."

"You couldn't have let me in on what you had up your sleeve, or orifice as the case may be?"

Glenn's smile faded. "Daryl, I believed I could win but the tranquilizer didn't guarantee it. Too many things could go wrong. It was better if you didn't know, that you were prepared for the worst. I didn't want you to have false hope if it failed. I was ready to die in there. The memory of you and me together was all I needed to take with me."

"I hated thinking that might be all I was left with. And still, it was better than nothing."

"But we're alive. We won. We can have a life. And we can do more for our district."

Daryl nodded. It was true. And he wanted it, was looking forward to it. But Glenn didn't understand yet the price to be paid. He would be a mentor, too. They would go to the Capitol every year and watch the tributes die. Because Daryl didn't think anybody from District 11 would ever win again. Two victories tainted by trickery would not be forgotten or forgiven. There were ways to manipulate the games, to make sure certain tributes didn't win.

Daryl considered whether their lives were in danger. He decided Snow probably wouldn't have them killed. Winning by any means was admired in the Capitol even if it was against Snow's personal preference. So victors dying in suspicious circumstances could cause more trouble than it was worth. But there were other ways to inflict suffering. Merle's existence was a continuing irritant to Snow. Glenn had no family but he was fond of Dale and Snow would be aware of that. Daryl figured they'd be lucky if both Merle and Dale made it through the next year.

But for now it was enough to be alive and together. Daryl could feel he was fading fast but Glenn was talking again.

"You have a beard."

Daryl rubbed a hand along his jaw. Shaving was something else he hadn't taken time for. "You mind it?"

"It's all right but I prefer the barely-there whiskers. I like seeing more of your face."

"I'll shave."

"Why don't you wait a while? Just until you blow me. I want to know what it feels like."

Yeah, the real Glenn was definitely back, Daryl thought as he slipped into sleep.


	6. Victory and Calamity

**Victory and Calamity**

Glenn

Haymitch Abernathy visits me in the hospital to congratulate me on winning before returning to District 12 with the bodies of his tributes. I'm relieved that they died by other hands than mine. With him is the new District 12 escort who he introduces as Euphemia Trinket. She asks that we call her Effie and then proceeds to explain that their tributes' dying so quickly was a terrible tragedy. For her. Because a winning tribute, or at least one that makes it to the final eight, is what gets you assigned to a better district. Of course since she's new she had to start at the bottom.

Effie seems oblivious to the various insensitivities and insults in her speech. Haymitch is not. He opines that the tributes probably didn't die to spite her and that she'd best remember the games aren't about her. She looks puzzled for a moment then seems to catch on and is silent. Apparently Effie isn't one of the great thinkers of the world.

Daryl has known Haymitch since he became a victor. They meet at the games every year and a few times during the year. Haymitch says he'll see us in District 12 at the start of the Victory Tour then he'll visit Merle and keep him company until we get home.

We stay in the Capitol for a few days until the new clothes I ordered are ready. Daryl gives me a set of luggage to pack them in. He also gives me the promised BJ which was interesting with the beard but it's really the mouth that matters so afterwards I shave him until he's left with his usual scruffy goatee.

The entire district turns out for our return. It's a Capitol decree that a holiday is declared if your district wins the games. Most people remain in the town square where I'll greet them later but a few meet the train: Merle, Dale, the Grimes and Andrea. I go first to Andrea. She's trying to smile through tears.

"I'm so sorry I'm here instead of Amy."

"No," Andrea says, "don't say that or even think it. I will miss my sister forever but I don't want you to regret being alive."

Dale hugs me. "I guess I've lost my assistant and housemate."

"You were going to lose me no matter what happened."

"I'm just thankful it's this way."

They won't let me keep working at the bakery because I don't need the job now. I remember something I've been meaning to ask Dale.

"Can I have that box of old books hidden in the basement? Where I found the cookbook? I'm going to have time on my hands and I like to read."

"They're yours," Dale agrees. "But we'll have to be careful. Those books are from the time before. The Peacekeepers would burn them if they knew."

Merle cuffs me on the shoulder with rough affection. "Took my advice, I see. Knew you were up to something all along. Never seen you act like a meek little Chinese coolie before."

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever. It worked."

Lori kisses my cheek. Carl smiles shyly. Rick smiles widely.

"Thanks for the bread," I tell him. "You saved my life that first day."

"You're welcome," Rick replies. "But judging by later events I think you would have done just fine. I was never so happy to be surprised by anyone."

I pick out a house in the Victors' Village and order furnishings. Dale and I pack my few belongings. They'd fit in one box but we separate the books into two boxes and put my stuff on top. Daryl and I stack the boxes on a cart and take them to his house where I'm living until mine is ready. Everyone knows we're together now.

A few weeks later my house is refurbished. Daryl moves in with me, leaving his own house for Merle. Family of a victor is entitled to live in the village in the same house but there are two victors and two houses in use so the Peacekeepers leave it alone.

With Merle next door, we often eat at each other's house. After hearing the story of Merle's hand and remembering my own experience with the Grimes, I think I know why Merle accepted me so easily. I catch him alone one day.

"The guilt and gratitude got to you, didn't it?" I ask Merle.

Merle nods. "Daryl knows I don't begrudge my hand but he can't help feeling bad that I lost it and how I lost it. He needs to stop existing and live a little."

"But why me?"

"You're who he wants. Beggars can't be choosers. I'd a latched on to anybody he showed interest in. I admit I was afraid he might take up with Millie the Mole. I couldn't abide that. And then I figured you messed up for sure volunteering like that. But it turned out real well. You not only took Daryl off my shoulders but out of the house. Plenty of room for Haymitch when he visits and we can talk about women and sex without Daryl gettin' bored."

"Yes, Daryl is more for action when it comes to sex. But you and Haymitch can talk all you want now."

It seems like a good exit line so I leave Merle glowering after me. Daryl had come in on the end of the conversation so I leave the brothers to it.

Daryl

Daryl didn't try to suppress his laughter as Glenn left the room.

Merle glared but let it go. "Guess I had that coming. Insouciant little bastard, ain't he?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows.

"Means jaunty, light-hearted." Merle paused. "And gay. Ironic, huh?"

"I know what it means," Daryl said. "I didn't know you knew insouciant or ironic. You been studying that old dictionary in Glenn's box of books?"

"I ain't an ignoramus, you know."

"You just like pretending."

Merle shrugged. "Passes the time."

Daryl hesitated. "I tried to get you a hand in the Capitol. Went roundabout but it didn't work."

"Again. Give it up, Daryl. You try every few years and it's no good. Snow's got control of that line. He probably don't even care anymore if I get the hand but it's a point of pride now. Besides, I been without for so long I wouldn't know what to do with another hand. Be like somethin' extra I don't need."

Glenn

Daryl and I settle down together, glad that the games are two months in the past and almost a year in the future. But something sad happens: Dale is dead. There's no autopsy of course because the Capitol doesn't care about a citizen's death even if it's unexpected. He appears to have died of natural causes anyway, a heart attack probably. At least he died peacefully in his bed.

Maybe it was a delayed reaction to Amy's death. Dale's wife Irma died several years ago and when Andrea's and Amy's parents died a year later, he became a second father to them. To a lot of people, actually, including me. He had assumed the role of town elder and his wisdom and gentle humor will be missed by many.

Daryl tells me that he wondered if something might happen to Dale or Merle or both of them as payback for winning the games. But Daryl was the one who found Dale and he thinks it really may have been a natural death. He stopped by the bakery one morning and it wasn't open yet so he checked upstairs. He figures if Snow had a hand in it he would have made sure we knew he was behind it even if we could never prove anything. It's best not to dwell on it. Dale was well past 60 and spent all but the last few years laboring in the fields. Life is hard in our district and most people don't live to average life expectancy.

One good thing that came of it is that the new baker is Carol Peletier, a widow with a young daughter. Her husband Ed died recently, falling from a tree. He was too old and heavy to climb that high but Ed always knew best. He threw his considerable weight around bullying others, especially his own family. In another life Ed would have liked to be a Peacekeeper.

With Dale dying so suddenly, they needed someone who already knew how to bake since there would be no apprenticeship with Dale like I had. Carol is a good cook. Rick Grimes suggested her and the Peacekeepers agreed. So little Sophia has my old room and Carol asked for my pizza recipe because it's become a favorite around the district.

It seems like everything that happens brings Daryl and me closer. We got acquainted when Dale was hurt. Merle nudged events when Daryl held back. And the games that could have separated us forever cemented our relationship. Shared loss of Dale has deepened it. But bad things can stop happening now, please. Daryl and I are solid.

Daryl

After Dale was buried, Daryl expected life to return to its usual routine but barely a week later the district was rocked when the Head Peacekeeper committed suicide. PKs weren't popular so Daryl's first thought was that someone did him in.

But it turned out he shot himself in a clearing near the town after midnight. Two PKs on patrol heard the shot and found him five minutes later on the ground with his weapon at hand. They were still staring when the mayor ran up, shirt unbuttoned and pants hastily pulled on. Grimes asked if he was dead and had to check the body himself because the grunts were stunned. They didn't even give him a hard time about breaking curfew. A special investigator from the Capitol was sent to conduct an inquiry and the verdict was death by his own hand.

It was one damn thing after another lately because a couple of weeks later there was another shock, this time just for Daryl and Glenn. Rick saw Daryl in town and asked if he could stop by. That wasn't unusual because Rick visited Daryl every week or so. Glenn thought he was a little lonely. As mayor he had to make tough decisions for the district sometimes, or at least announce them since he was mostly passing on what was decided by the Head Peacekeeper or the Capitol. Even though the citizens knew the mayor wasn't responsible, there was a distance between them same as with victors so Daryl and Rick had become friends. Glenn was included, too, not just because he was a victor. Glenn had delivered to the mayor's house when he worked at the bakery and he got to know the entire family.

Rick looked like he was unraveling when Daryl brought him to the room they used most. It was fairly small and the new furniture was comfortable. A davenport sat before the fireplace with armchairs on either side, everything upholstered in oxblood leather. It reminded them of a men's club they had visited, one of the few things in the Capitol they had enjoyed.

Daryl and Glenn sprawled at either end of the davenport. Rick usually relaxed in an armchair but tonight he perched on the edge, turning his hat in his hands.

He didn't look up as he said, "I killed Shane Walsh."


	7. Secrets Revealed

**Secrets Revealed**

Glenn

Rick doesn't look up as he says, "I killed Shane Walsh."

Daryl and I glance at each other in surprise. Before the silence can grow Daryl says, "You did a good job. No one suspected."

Rick looks up then. "You're not going to say I did a terrible thing?"

"You must have had a good reason," I tell him.

"A dead PK is no loss," Daryl adds.

"I thank you for not judging," Rick says. "As a matter of fact, it was self-defense but it's been eating at me that maybe I could have handled it different. Because the truth is that I wanted him dead."

"It wasn't all his fault. Lori made a mistake, but he took advantage. A month before the games she went to him and asked if there was any way he could get Carl's name taken out of the drawing."

I can tell from Daryl's face that he's thinking the same thing I am. Lori isn't the first woman to beg for her child's life. But it never works. Any interference in the drawing means death no matter who does it.

Rick hesitates. "She said she'd do anything." His voice breaks, and I know what Lori did.

"Walsh told her he could save Carl but it would be dangerous for him. If he got caught, he'd be executed. He said he'd always admired her, that coming to our house was the best part of being assigned to District 11."

I know Rick and Walsh weren't friends but the mayor and the commander of the Peacekeeper garrison have to maintain a working relationship so Walsh was invited to dinner every couple of months.

"You know what happened. And of course he lied. The chance of Carl being chosen was so small he must have thought he'd get away with it." Rick's eyes meet mine. "And then you saved our son. No conditions. Just the greatest act of generosity and sacrifice I've ever known."

"How did you find out what happened?" I ask to get the subject off of me. Plus I really want to know.

"Lori told me."

Why would Lori confess something so hurtful? She should have kept it to herself and lived with the guilt. Maybe Walsh threatened to tell Rick and she thought it would be better coming from her so she could give her side of the story first.

"She's pregnant," Rick says softly.

"You think it's his?" Daryl asks.

"I know it. We haven't been … close lately. Nothing really wrong, just one of the ups and downs of marriage. It started on Carl's birthday a couple of months before the reaping. Of course she was worried, so was I. But I didn't realize she was that desperate. I would have stopped her if I knew what she was going to do. Carl's chances were better than others. His name was only in once. He didn't have to sign up for tessera. It was against all odds that his name was pulled."

Rick sighs. "Anyway, she told me. And I said it would be our baby. But she was four months along and starting to show. Walsh noticed. He knew it was his."

"Peacekeepers aren't allowed to marry or have children," I remind him. "He had to know he couldn't claim the child."

"Walsh's 20 year enlistment was almost up. He thought there was more between them than Lori trying to save Carl. He thought he could take her away and start over."

"He actually told you all that?" Daryl asks.

Rick nods. "He asked to meet me in the clearing. I was suspicious but I couldn't refuse. When he started talking about taking Lori away, I said that wasn't happening. They were only together a few times and Lori already told him it was over. Even before Carl was picked and she knew Walsh lied. But he was unhinged. He pulled his weapon and said he'd be doing his duty by shooting a poacher who broke curfew, even if it was the mayor. He had a sack with a turkey he'd snared. He planned to kill me all along.

"He thought I was no threat, that I couldn't or wouldn't fight back. I jumped him. It was pure luck that the gun went off as I twisted his arm up to his head. I didn't even have to move the body. I ran into the woods. I knew the patrol would hear and get there pretty fast. I unbuttoned my shirt and pants like I put them on in a hurry and circled around so I'd be coming from my house. I checked the body so there'd be a reason for some blood on my clothes. You know the rest."

"Talk about calm under pressure," I say admiringly. "You thought of everything and you didn't get caught."

Daryl is thinking about something else. "What about the turkey? Did you get it?"

Rick stares at him in amazement and then grins. "Yeah. I couldn't leave it there. How would that be explained? We had it for dinner the next night. Ate the evidence."

"Do Lori and Carl know what happened?" I ask.

"Lori does, of course. Not Carl. He never knew what his mother did and we don't want him to. And now we don't want him to know what his father did. I shouldn't have burdened you either but it got so I felt like I had to tell someone."

"Who better than us," Daryl says.

It's true. We've both killed many more than Rick has. He should be all right now, at least until the baby is born. Raising another man's child, especially under these circumstances, may be more difficult than he imagines.

Daryl

Daryl had always respected Rick Grimes and thought he was a good leader for the district but he'd never been sure until now that Rick could commit violence if needed. Not only had he stepped up but he'd covered his ass well enough to fool a Capitol investigator. Daryl was impressed.

Glenn

Things are quiet for a few weeks and then it's time for the Victory Tour. I'd never been out of the district until the games and Daryl hasn't visited other districts since his own tour. We start in 12. The people seem poorer and thinner than 11. Maybe it's because we have better weather and even though the penalty for stealing food is severe, it's easier to get away with enough to keep from starving when you're working in a garden or orchard. But overall our security is tighter and our Peacekeepers harsher.

If the circumstances were different I'd enjoy traveling around Panem, seeing firsthand what each district produces. The outlying districts are fairly friendly because even though their tributes died, I didn't kill them and they're quietly pleased that an underdog won. But the districts close to the Capitol are the homes of the career tributes I knocked out and smothered and they're barely civil. Daryl says it was the same for him.

The feast in the Capitol is disgusting with the vomitorium based on ancient Rome. The people are nice to me – they enjoy the excess and gluttony that goes along with the Victory Tour – but President Snow is as cold as his name. He's icily polite to me and doesn't really look at or acknowledge Daryl in any way. But then it's over and we can go home to District 11 for the harvest celebration.

Daryl

Winter was coming and even in a temperate climate prey would be less plentiful so Daryl wanted one last hunt outside the fence. He got lucky and took down a deer. That didn't happen often. The last time was three years ago. He couldn't haul the carcass back so he dressed it out in the woods and then had to wait until full dark before making for home laden with meat. He was much later than usual and hoped Glenn wasn't too worried. Their house was empty when he arrived so he stashed the meat and headed across to his former house now occupied only by Merle.

Glenn jumped up when he came in. He looked relieved and angry in equal parts. Daryl suspected he was in trouble.

Merle spoke. "I was starting to worry. Glenn started an hour ago."

Daryl explained about the deer.

"That's different, then," Merle said happily. "All is forgiven."

"No, it isn't," Glenn said.

"Sure it is," Merle disagreed. "He got a deer!"

"That's not the issue," Glenn said coolly. He headed for the doorway and paused to look over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

"Should I?" Daryl asked. "I can stay here if you don't want me around for awhile."

"This isn't over. How can we finish it if you're not there? Come on." Glenn left.

Merle tapped a brass bowl on the end table beside his chair. "You can leave your balls here," he said with a snicker. "Whipped as you are, you won't be needing them."

Daryl stared him down. "It was a small deer. Probably not enough to share with you."

"Aw, don't be like that. Go home and make nice. Do something tonight to get in a better mood and I'll be over in the morning for venison."

Daryl trudged home. He and Glenn didn't fight much and it never lasted long when they did. There were the usual minor disagreements but they'd been through too much to let pettiness get the best of them. But tonight Daryl was pretty sure he knew what the issue was that Glenn mentioned.

"I understand why you were late," Glenn started in. "And the meat will be great. But if something really had happened to you, I don't even know how to find you. Merle was surprised I didn't know but he said it had to come from you. So my question is, why don't you trust me to know how to get out of the fence?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. I just hadn't thought about telling you." It was the truth but it sounded feeble even to Daryl's ears. "I'll show you next week. I'd do it tomorrow but we shouldn't be out again so soon."

"I promise I won't tell anyone and I won't go out unless it's an emergency."

"I know. I trust you. But it could be dangerous for you to know."

They went to bed then and Daryl was in a better mood the next morning when Merle arrived.

Glenn

On a gloomy day when the chill and damp is keeping most people inside and the PK patrols are few, Daryl and I go for a walk. Beyond the Victors' Village in the opposite direction from town is a huge sandstone bluff with an irregular base curving a quarter mile long. Most of the rock face is sheer and bare but vines and moss grow up a dozen feet from the bottom. Daryl shows me the narrow opening covered by foliage that leads to a passage through the bluff.

"How could the PKs and inspectors miss this? It's hidden, but not if they're looking very closely."

"The Capitol likes folks to do what they're told, no more, no less," Daryl explains. "The PKs check the fence to make sure citizens can't get out and the Capitol sends a team every year to inspect it. And you better believe that fence gets checked and inspected. They look close at the ends where rock meets fence but in between they walk along and don't pay much attention because this is rock and they're here to look at fence."

"Surely someone has thought about it. There would be a big reward for finding it."

"Or maybe they'll get punished for wasting time. PK grunts and Capitol inspectors have some status in the districts but they got no real power. Nobody wants to hear questions or suggestions from them. Makes them sound like they know better than their superiors. Plus they figure if something was there somebody else would have found it by now."

Halfway through the passage it widens to a small cave where Daryl stores weapons and supplies. We go on to the other side. I'm so excited I'm breathless. It feels different looking at the fence from this side. I never felt confined before but I will from now on, knowing how close this is.

We don't stay long and we don't go far. Daryl says it's probably the last time we'll be here until spring. It's harder to hide with less greenery and tracks are more visible on bare ground.

Daryl surprises me on our way back through the cave. Let me just say that prehistoric people had the right idea with caveman sex. And by that I mean men in a cave having sex.

I wonder if a bearskin is better than a sleeping bag.


	8. Change Is Coming

**Change Is Coming**

Glenn

Lori Grimes is dead, leaving behind her newborn daughter Judith.

After an uneventful pregnancy, she suddenly needed a Caesarian section and Hershel was at the other end of the district tending to a horse that ran into the electrified fence. His daughter Maggie was with Lori and ended up cutting the baby out of her in the most brutal way. Carl had to help.

The baby is fine. Hershel's younger daughter Beth is taking care of her. Carol is busy in the bakery but gives advice and helps when she can. Rick is falling apart right now but no one blames him. He wanders around talking to someone only he sees. Surprisingly, Carl is holding the household together despite having witnessed his mother's bloody death.

I feel like I'm reporting news about strangers instead of people I care about. Maybe the effects of so much loss over a lifetime have numbed me to tragedy. At least all this keeps me from thinking too much about the approaching games.

Daryl

Merle was alive and well when the games rolled around. Daryl hoped Snow had some other crisis in the Capitol and that he wasn't just biding his time.

The reapings after Glenn's victory were bitter.

The first year a sister and brother were chosen. They were Jim Deakins' only children. There weren't many machines in the district because human labor was plentiful but the few in use were kept in working order by Jim. His wife collapsed in his arms when their daughter's name was read. She fainted when their son's name was called. She lived long enough to see her children brought home and buried and then faded day by day until she was laid to rest beside them. Jim tried to go on but there was nothing left for him. A few weeks later he stepped on a rusty nail, died of tetanus and joined his family.

"It's not right that a family should lose more than one," Glenn said. "If one gets picked, the others should be safe."

"There's no cause for the ages to be so wide either," Daryl replied. "Except that they want younger, smaller, weaker kids to be fodder for the others. Hell, they could pick one year in the middle and have all tributes be 15. But everybody'd be more evenly matched and have a better chance and they don't want that. And they want kids to live in fear until they're 19."

"It makes me sick that we're trying to think of ways to make the games more tolerable," Glenn said. "As if they should be taking place at all."

The second year Edwin Jenner and Jacqui, both 17, died together in an explosion the day after entering the arena.

The third year 12 year old Sophia Peletier never made it off her platform. Frozen with terror, she was an easy target for a nearby tribute. Fourteen year old Randall was the male tribute that year and he made it to the final eight before a Career broke his neck. Randall's parents were dead but Sophia's mother Carol grieved for both of them.

The fourth year when Patricia was picked, her boyfriend Otis volunteered as the male tribute. They made an alliance with three others and survived five days but when they were chased by another group, one of the allies stabbed Otis in the leg, sacrificing him so the others could get away. Patricia moved on with them but two days later it was her turn to be bait.

The fifth year a girl named Donna was chosen along with Beth Greene's boyfriend Jimmy. He was ambushed on the third day and Donna was killed a few days after. Beth was almost catatonic. She might have turned suicidal but little Judith was four years old and needed her.

Rick had recovered a few weeks after Lori's death but he was a changed man. Judith's biological parents are gone but she and Carl are all he has left of Lori and he considers them equally his children.

Glenn

Daryl and I have been together for six years. The reality of being a mentor hit me that first year. I can't imagine going through it alone for 16 years as Daryl did. I've learned to keep the games separate in my mind so I can enjoy the rest of our life together.

But life in the district is about to change again: We have a new Head Peacekeeper. We got one six years ago after Shane Walsh's death. He was tough but not unreasonable. Like Walsh was before he got obsessed with Lori Grimes. But he's been transferred and there's a new sheriff in town.

Daryl

As mayor, Rick met the train to greet the new Head Peacekeeper. Daryl and Glenn didn't see him until he addressed the district from the town square. He introduced himself as Philip Blake. He had an affable manner but his smile never reached his eyes and Daryl didn't trust him. But the people took to him. He was friendly, telling them there was no reason they couldn't all get along without unpleasantness.

"We don't use town names much anymore," Blake said. "It's easier to identify by district. But this town is Woodbury and I intend to make our town and district the safest and most productive place in Panem. A place we can all be proud of."

He sounded fair and amiable and it played well to the crowd, giving them hope that their situation might improve. The people had long been nothing more than slaves to the Capitol. Now it sounded like they really would be citizens guided by a governor instead of prisoners under a warden.

The men talked privately later. Daryl voiced his distrust but admitted he distrusted all PKs on principle. Rick was also skeptical. He thought this new 'governor' was too smooth and too good to be true. Even Glenn, who liked to give the benefit of the doubt to everybody, was uneasy.

Their judgment was soon confirmed. Almost immediately it became clear that in order to achieve safety and productivity, every law would be strictly enforced and the maximum penalty imposed for even the smallest infractions. Lashings were frequent and there were two executions in a month. There hadn't been an execution for two years.

Each time Blake addressed the crowd with his soft but carrying voice, saying the rules were in place for a reason and expressing disappointment that the people had failed him. He had hoped for better from them. He had given them a chance and they had abused his goodwill.

"It's worse than ever," Rick said. "It's all but impossible to live without breaking some law. Walsh and the others would let a few things slide, enough to keep morale up."

"Get rid of Blake," Glenn suggested. "You did it once, you can do it again."

"My money's on you," Daryl said.

They all laughed but they knew it wouldn't happen. 'The Governor' was careful and well-protected.

Even under tyranny life has a rhythm and District 11 found it. People got used to the absolute control wielded by the Head PK. Most of the laws were about workers and productivity so Daryl and Glenn weren't affected. They tried to do more, even met with Blake who shook his head and said the people hadn't earned any rewards. If Daryl and Glenn wanted to ask again in a year, he'd review the request then. They knew it would never be granted.

Glenn

The 74th Hunger Games change everything. We lose big, strong Thresh and small, sweet Rue but our neighboring District 12 wins. Both tributes are allowed to survive so Haymitch Abernathy finally has company in his Victors' Village. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark join him there. Katniss and Rue were allies during the games. Katniss risked herself to honor Rue's death and we repaid her by sending Rue's bread parachute. Thresh even spared her at the cornucopia.

The end of the games was the worst anyone has seen because of the muttations. The Capitol has used them before but always animals. This time they used the dead tributes. When Daryl saw, he said they'd gone too far.

"Guess I never knew what the line was," Daryl said. "But Snow and the Capitol and the Gamemakers just crossed it. All these years I been putting up and shutting up. But when they make the dead start walking, I'm done sitting back and hoping for the best. The time has come. Every revolution needs a spark to get it started and these kids that won are it. Especially that girl Katniss."

Over the years we've worked our way through that old box of books Dale gave me. There's a history of the United States which seems to be the name of our country before planet-wide catastrophe changed the face of North America forever. There are maps as well. The section of Panem that was long ago called the Deep South is now our District 11.

The United States had slavery, too, and civil war because of it. The South was in favor of slavery then but what goes around comes around and we're on the receiving end this time. But there's a phrase in one of the books that Daryl and Merle and I like: The South shall rise again.

We meet with Rick and the four of us plan a revolution in District 11. Everyone joins in. Nothing is written down and there are no big meetings. Word is passed in quiet conversation while working. Haymitch visits Merle and we learn it's happening in all the outlying districts. It becomes more organized with Haymitch as liaison.

I'm working on a personal goal and Daryl notices. One night as we start to make each other feel good he sits back on the bed and says admiringly, "You're cut as hell."

"Did you say cut or cute?"

"Cut. But cute works too."

"Was I flabby before?"

"Nope. But you've been ripping it up lately and it shows."

"We're rebels. I want to be ready."

Daryl eyes my cock. "Appears you're ready for somethin' else right now."

We're both ready for that.

* * *

A new feeling is in the air, drifting from district to district. Snow doesn't realize how deep the seeds of rebellion have been sown. It may take awhile before they come to fruition but they'll be his downfall eventually. People are beginning to think of freedom as a real possibility instead of a long-dead dream. We aren't ready to stand up and fight yet but it's building to a showdown.

A change is coming.


	9. Quarter Quell

**Quarter Quell**

Glenn

When I imagined fighting for freedom I thought of Daryl and me shoulder to shoulder or back to back. That if the worst happened at least we'd be together. We haven't spent a night apart in seven years. I also thought we'd paid our dues and neither of us would ever be in the arena again.

But the 75th Hunger Games throws us a curve. It's the third quarter quell and the twist this time is that tributes will be chosen from previous winners. So Daryl or I must be the male tribute. Since we don't have a female winner, the rules apply and a tribute will be chosen from all girls 12 to 18 in the district.

Eliza's name is pulled from the bowl. She's the daughter of Victor and Miranda Morales. Her parents and brother Louis have the usual reactions and if you didn't know better you'd think they really were heartbroken. But Michonne volunteers as planned and Eliza is off the hook. My name is picked next and Daryl volunteers, also as planned.

Katniss and Peeta from District 12 will be going. They don't know that tributes from other districts in the resistance will protect them. Daryl is assigned to Peeta and Michonne to Katniss. Michonne is almost 19, dark-skinned with dreadlocks, and beautiful in a stern don't-touch-me way. She's been one of us from the beginning but she's quiet and doesn't speak without reason. She's strong and scary and full of seething rage over the death of her brother and boyfriend. I feel better knowing she'll have Daryl's back. I'm not sure I like her but I'm glad she's on our side.

Michonne is the reason I built myself up. I had been coasting since winning the games. I wasn't out of shape exactly but definitely not in peak form. Michonne looks like she could throw me around like Daryl does sometimes but without the happy ending he delivers.

Michonne works the fields which is unusual. Women are assigned to the orchards and gardens and men to the fields but she asked for field work. You should see her scything wheat or swinging a machete at sugar cane. Too bad the tools can't be weapons but they're issued each morning and turned in each night and locked up under Peacekeeper watch in between.

Andrea the mediator is with us too. Maybe. A few months ago I wouldn't have doubted it but she's been sleeping with the enemy and her loyalties might be divided. It was Carol who half jokingly suggested that someone sleep with 'The Governor' to get information from him. Andrea volunteered. Looking back, she was a little too eager.

She's passed along a few things like confirming that Milton Mamet was a mole for the Capitol. Soon after, the pretense of him being a regular citizen was over. He's openly assisting Blake now, some kind of secret experiments.

Daryl and I said our goodbyes last night because there's only time for a hurried farewell before he and Michonne take the train to the Capitol. I'm not going as mentor this year. No one is. Something else Katniss and Peeta don't know is that an operation is planned to rescue everyone from the arena. I have to keep holding on to the hope that it will work. It's the only thing that makes parting from Daryl bearable.

The district shuts down during the games except for the minimum of irrigation and weeding necessary to insure a good crop. Merle and I watch together and sometimes Rick joins us. It's a grueling ordeal and it doesn't look like much fun in the arena either. Over the course of the first 12 hours it's obvious to onlookers that the arena is organized as a clock face with the cornucopia on an island in the center and something horrible happening in the 12 sections around it. There's lightning and blood rain and poisonous fog. Monkey muttations, a tidal wave and jabberjays. The jabberjays mimic loved ones being tortured. It's disorienting to hear your own voice screaming from the screen.

At least they don't all happen at once but take turns hour by hour. Each bad thing happens twice a day. Wiress from District 3 figures out how it works. She's not entirely sane, though, and all she says is 'Tick tock' so it take the others awhile to know what she means.

I can't stop watching but I wish I didn't have to see what's happening. Until the Peacekeepers come for me, lock me up and beat me. Then I wish I still knew what was going on with Daryl.

Daryl

Daryl was committed to the cause but that didn't mean he couldn't regret being away from Glenn. Daryl almost always woke up first. He liked to watch Glenn wake up, see him yawn and stretch before opening his eyes. His limbs unfolded from being curled up, usually around Daryl. Then his eyes met Daryl's and he smiled. Yeah, Daryl's day didn't begin until Glenn's eyes opened.

But now Daryl is living a nightmare and he's grateful Glenn is safe at home in District 11. It took a day to figure out the arena was a clock. Two lightning strikes, two showers of blood, twice outrunning fog that corrodes the skin. Two monkey mutt attacks, two tidal waves and twice hearing Glenn's voice full of terror and pain.

Daryl almost lost it then. It sounded so real he figured Glenn must have been brought to the arena. Daryl was ready to go after him but wiser tributes prevailed and he realized the jabberjays were one more way to mess with their heads.

Daryl had a hard time taking the monkey mutts seriously even though they were vicious and deadly. Probably because he was thinking of the monkeys in one of Glenn's old books. 'The Wizard of Oz' was a children's book but Daryl, Glenn and Merle enjoyed it. These monkey mutts were orange and Daryl kept expecting a witch to show up and say 'Fly, my pretties.' Right up until the female morphling from District 6 jumped in front of Peeta and sacrificed herself to save him.

Daryl did his share of saving tributes, finding food and getting water from trees. But after three days he was looking forward to the rescue that should be coming any time now.

Glenn

I've been in this storage room in Peacekeeper headquarters for two days. I'm in bad shape from being beaten but they've given me enough food and water to keep me coherent for interrogation. I haven't answered any questions yet but I'm afraid the time is coming when I won't be able to hold out.

The door opens. Time for another round. But no, a walking dead mutt is pushed into the room and released and the door slams shut. I haven't seen one since the 74th Hunger Games. His opaque eyes seem sightless but he lifts his head and sniffs and heads in my direction. Is this the experiment Milton has been working on in secret for Blake?

No use wondering how it happened, I need to think about how to get out of this without being bitten or scratched. We've learned since last year that each walker mutt doesn't have to be created individually. They can make more of their own.

I'm tied to a chair. I get up and swing around and knock the mutt off his feet. Then I slam the chair into the wall. Fortunately it's an olden wooden chair. I guess they didn't want to risk me bleeding on the nice padded metal chairs I saw in PK HQ when Daryl and I met with Blake. I have to knock the mutt around a couple more times between crashing into the wall before the chair breaks apart. One of the legs has a jagged end. I shove it into the mutt's head and he drops.

Caesar Martinez comes in. He's the PK who beats me while Blake asks questions. He looks like he didn't expect me to put down the mutt but he sneers and says if I'm still not answering questions, there's no reason to keep me around. He drags the mutt out and locks the door behind him. He comes back a few minutes later with Maggie Greene. I didn't know she was here, too. It pisses me off that Blake must have thought we were the two most likely to give up the resistance and their plans. Maggie isn't beaten but she's topless and terrified and I suddenly think there might be worse things than a beating. I give her my shirt then Martinez tells us to kneel. His weapon is drawn. Blake comes in. This is it. We're going to be executed unless we talk. And if we talk we'll probably be executed as soon as Blake thinks we've told everything we know.

Then Michonne is in the doorway with the sword she got at the cornucopia. The rescue must have taken place but where's Daryl? Rick follows her and there's no time to chat. Rick grabs Martinez' hand with the gun and twists it up. He pulls Martinez' trigger finger and shoots him in the head just as he must have done years ago with Shane Walsh. Might as well keep doing what works for you. Meanwhile Blake is fumbling for his weapon as Michonne puts her sword to his head.

"This is for my boyfriend and my brother."

They were the two men executed the first month that Blake took over. She swings, but Andrea has entered the room during the confusion and slaps at Michonne's arm. Blake moves his head and the sword catches his eye. Andrea grabs his weapon as he stumbles away. She turns it on Michonne.

"All of you leave. Now."

A PK weapon trumps a sword. Martinez' weapon is still in his dead hand. Rick was reaching for it when Andrea arrived. We know whose side she's on but at least she's letting us go.

Rick helps Maggie and me up and gets us out of the room. Michonne's face is stone as she says to Andrea, "You cunt."

She darts out the door and we're on our way. Peacekeeper headquarters is empty and so is the town. Mostly. We avoid a few PKs on patrol and head for the woods. When we stop to regroup Rick tells us his kids and the inner circle of rebels are with Merle.

"Merle said you'd get us out," Rick says. I smile. I can do that.

We make our way through the woods to the sandstone bluff. It's dark and cloudy so the moonlight is patchy but I know the hidden entrance well by now. They're waiting for us in the cave: Merle, Carl and Judith, Carol, Hershel and Beth.

"Where's Daryl?" I wondered why Daryl didn't come himself to get me but I wouldn't let myself think the worst. Maybe he was hurt, a bad leg that wouldn't allow him to move quickly. Maybe he let Michonne go because she was bent on revenge.

Michonne speaks. "Katniss and Peeta were supposed to stay together. But they separated at the end. I went with Kat and Daryl with Peeta. My group got rescued. Peeta's got captured. The Capitol has them."

"Is he dead?" I should have asked if 'they' were dead but all I really care about is Daryl.

"There's no reason to think so. Not yet. The Capitol will want them alive. For now."

I'd feel more reassured if Michonne had omitted 'Not yet' and 'For now' but she's terse and truthful. Surely Daryl and the others will be retrieved. Katniss is safe but she'll want Peeta back. Their romance is part of what fired the uprising.

We won't know anything more until morning. After being rescued herself, Michonne asked to be dropped in District 11 instead of going with the others to District 13 which has become the headquarters of the resistance. Now we have to get through the woods beyond the fence to coordinates where a hover plane will pick us up at dawn.


	10. Endgame

**Endgame**

Glenn

It's only five miles to the rendezvous but it takes three hours. Merle and I don't know these woods as well as Daryl and it's especially unfamiliar in the dark. Rick and Carl take turns carrying Judith. She's almost asleep and the terrain is too rough for a six-year old to travel with speed. We arrive at the clearing with a little time to spare for rest inside the tree line. I can't let myself think about Daryl so I worry about the people we left behind.

"Will Blake retaliate against them because we got away?"

Rick is the voice of reason: "I don't think so. Not much and not many anyway. He might know or at least suspect they were all in on the rebellion but they weren't the ringleaders. He has to have workers for the crops. He can't let Panem starve to satisfy his ego. He must know there'll be an out-and-out riot if he pushes it."

Maggie was silent during our trek but now she confesses that Blake almost raped her. She's sorry Michonne didn't get to take his head. No one is surprised that Andrea stayed behind. We've all had our suspicions about her. Surely she can't know what Blake is capable of. He's careful to maintain his façade.

The hover plane is on time and a little later we're in District 13. It was bombed 75 years ago during the first rebellion. That's when the Hunger Games were started as a punishment and a reminder. Talk about the sins of the parents being visited on the children.

District 13 survivors moved underground and just existed at first. Slowly they began building up and coming back from the devastation they suffered. There are only 10 of us from District 11 but we're an additional strain on the capacity of the underground bunkers. We learn that District 12 was burned down and only 10 percent of the population made it out. But that's about 900 people so it's very crowded quarters everywhere. I don't care about personal discomfort. My only question is when Daryl will be rescued.

There is no immediate plan. Merle and I raise hell about that but we're guests and no one in charge is listening to us. When the Capitol airs propaganda spots against the rebellion starring Peeta, President Coin and her team try to dismiss them but the effect on Katniss is obvious and they realize they have to mount a rescue attempt if they want her to be the Mockingjay symbol of revolution.

In a small conference room with President Coin and Merle, I insist on going along.

"No," Merle says firmly. "You stay here and I'll bring Daryl back."

"It should be me."

"But it's gonna be me."

I sigh and smile as if I'm giving in like Merle wants. "All right." I go to him and pat his shoulder. "But be careful."

"You got that right." Merle's good hand locks on my arm. Damn it. He looks at the syringe that slipped from my sleeve to my palm. "You trying to put one over on ole Merle? Don't you know that don't work on me? I always know when you're up to something."

"How do you know?" I demanded.

"Cause you're always up to something!"

Coin had been watching with amusement. When she saw the syringe she frowned and stepped toward us just as the intercom activated.

"This is the medical bay. It may just be misplaced but I thought I should report a missing syringe and …"

"A sedative?" Coin interrupts.

"Yes, ma'am."

"They've been located," Coin says dryly. "I'll return them to you." She stalks over and takes the syringe from me.

"Why does everybody fall for your tricks except me?" Merle muses. "Guess you got one of them trustworthy faces. That just puts me on my guard."

The rescue goes so smoothly that it's a reason for anxiety. Coin and the command team think the Capitol wanted the hostages rescued. We find out why when Peeta wakes up and Katniss goes to see him. Daryl and the others are still sedated. What will happen when he wakes up and sees me?

Daryl

Daryl woke to Glenn sitting by his bed and a lady doctor or some medical type standing at the foot. She was saying, "He should be in restraints."

"It's not necessary," Glenn told her, then noticed Daryl's eyes were open. "You're awake! How do you feel?"

Glenn leaned over him which was the best view Daryl had seen for weeks. "I'm supposed to kill you," he said.

The female medic stepped forward in alarm but Glenn just grinned.

"Well, thanks for not going along with that."

"You know about the mind control hijacking?" The medic asked.

"I figured out pretty quick what they were doing and played along so they'd think it was working and not do something worse to me."

"But why didn't it work?" she asked.

"They can train a brain to kill somebody," Daryl replied. "But killing yourself is harder. Self-preservation instinct is strong."

"But they didn't want you to commit suicide."

"Killing Glenn would be the same as dying myself. My mind couldn't wrap around it."

"It worked on Peeta. He tried to kill Katniss." The medic was confused.

"He's young," Daryl said. "And them two kids haven't been close for long."

"Daryl and I have been together for seven years," Glenn said. "Really together. They didn't have Daryl long enough to overcome that."

"I need to make a report." The medic left them together.

"So you didn't want me strapped down?" Daryl asked. "Thought that might appeal to you."

"I'll tie you down myself," Glenn replied. "But not until you're well enough for both of us to enjoy it."

"I'm feelin' better every minute."

Glenn

Daryl and I finally get to fight shoulder to shoulder and back to back. The few districts still loyal to the Capitol are defeated and we're with one of the teams that take the Capitol in the final assault. We witness the massacre of the children and the medical team that tried to help them. Snow is captured and taken to District 13. An examination reveals sores in his mouth that won't heal. He's been ingesting small amounts of poison for years to build up immunity so he can poison enemies at his own table. He eats and drinks with them and no one suspects because he doesn't get sick or die.

Daryl and I and the other few remaining game winners are in the meeting with President Coin when she proposes a final Hunger Games with Capitol children as tributes. I vote no because the games have to end and Capitol children already died in the massacre. Daryl votes yes because he spent 23 of his 35 years in the shadow of the games and he can't let that go yet. To him it's justice that the Capitol experiences it once. We understand why we voted as we did and it won't matter to our relationship. Besides, our votes cancel each other. The proposal passes because Katniss and Haymitch favor it which surprises us at first and then makes sense with what follows. Katniss realized Coin is as bad as Snow but she needed Coin to trust her.

At the public execution of Snow, it's bedlam when Katniss turns her bow and arrow on President Coin and kills her instead. Daryl and I watch in shock with the rest of the crowd but I'm aware that Merle is moving quickly and quietly toward Snow. When the furor dies down, Snow is discovered dead. The official verdict is that he choked on his own blood from the sores in his mouth but Daryl and I know better. Merle tells us he stuck his stump down Snow's throat and held his nose closed until he suffocated.

"Always wanted to make that smug bastard choke on not letting me have a prostho hand," Merle says with satisfaction. "Never expected it to be so literal."

"He wasn't responsible for you losing your hand," I remind Merle.

"No reason to hold it against Diabla," Merle replies. "We made a deal and she held up her end of the bargain. I knew blood and sex would be involved. I admit I hoped she'd just fuck me and bite my ear. She died three years ago. Wrote me before she passed and said the best orgasm she ever had was watching me saw my hand off. In 20 years she never had anything else match it. I wrote her back, told her she should have tried my dick." Merle shakes his head sadly. "She coulda died a happy woman."

Katniss is acquitted of Coin's death by reason of temporary insanity but the new regime doesn't think it wise to let her roam free in the republic so the symbol of the second rebellion is exiled back to burned out District 12 and Haymitch is assigned to watch her. Peeta joins them a few months later. He still has spells but is mostly recovered and has overcome the mind control hijacking. He and Katniss are together again.

Haymitch and Katniss aren't regular correspondents but Peeta likes to write so he keeps us informed.

One day when Haymitch went to pick up his monthly supply of alcohol, Effie Trinket was there. Effie was ignorant not evil but as a former escort she was a reminder of dark days and the new president thought she'd be safer elsewhere. She had nowhere else to go so she took the train to District 12.

Daryl and I were aware that despite their apparent contempt for each other, Haymitch and Effie enjoyed once-a-year trysts at the games. Haymitch has a grudging affection for her and he took her home with him. He's cut down on his drinking and Effie has learned to take care of the geese he keeps.

As for District 11, we all came home. Andrea is still here. Her life before was no easier than Rick's or Daryl's or mine. Being mediator set her apart just like being the mayor or a victor. Her parents died too young as so many do and then she lost her sister Amy to the games. We all make mistakes and hers was falling under the spell of Blake's charisma. Andrea was always fair with the citizens and they like her despite her betrayal so she's forgiven. Oh yes, she also killed 'The Governor' so there's that.

After she saved his life Blake trusted her more even though she let us go. When she found out he was going to burn down our house and Merle's, she couldn't stop it but she saved the one thing that couldn't be replaced: my box of books from the time before. I owe her for that. Blake thought she was on his side and he slowly let his true nature show. One night after sex Andrea waited until he fell asleep then stabbed him in the heart with a knife. He lived long enough to open his eyes and see her face. The resistance took back District 11 the next morning before the other PKs had a chance to turn on her.

Blake had known better than to destroy the entire village and have to answer to Snow and the Capitol. So we chose different houses and others joined us. It's called Victory Village now instead of the Victors' Village. Life is much the same as before but without Peacekeepers and fences. Districts are diversifying so they can be more independent. That means we don't have to feed all of Panem. We have time and people available for other things. Daryl is helping build new homes to replace the shacks for families on the edge of town.

I'm writing a history of the second rebellion. Someone from every district is doing the same and then they'll be combined and published. When I finish, Carol and I will open a restaurant. I miss baking and she'd rather cook than bake so we're going into business together.

Daryl

Glenn shut himself up in the study and wrote almost every day. Daryl didn't consider himself needy but he liked to be around Glenn whether they were talking or not so he took to reading the rest of those old books he hadn't gotten to yet. Glenn sat at the desk and Daryl stretched out on the davenport. This one was a pretty good story and there was enough action what with the war and burning Atlanta to keep Daryl's interest even though it was mostly about a spoiled Southern belle.

It was late when he finished. Glenn was just putting away his manuscript. Daryl had an idea. He hoisted Glenn over his shoulder and headed for the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Glenn asked, upside down.

"Re-enacting that book."

"Rhett didn't carry Scarlett like a sack of feed."

"Do you mind?"

Glenn didn't. His cock was pressed against Daryl's chest and Daryl's butt was a nice view from any angle.

"As long as you get to our room fast, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn how."

* * *

A/N: That's my blending of two apocalyptic worlds. No matter what happens, Daryl and Glenn will be all right. And always together. Thanks to everyone for reading and especially those who took the time to review.


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